


I Met Him When The Sun Was Down

by hunkydoryharry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Drugs, F/M, Fetus Louis with glasses, Harry Styles Has Long Hair, Harry has a dumb girlfriend, Homophobic Language, Louis is a worried neighbour, M/M, Swear Words, Weed brownie, Who is mean and horrible, anxiety attack, harry is anxious, there may be a sequel if people want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 19:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12327162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunkydoryharry/pseuds/hunkydoryharry
Summary: Harry goes to a party. Louis is a kind neighbour.





	I Met Him When The Sun Was Down

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot is based off the song Closer by The Tiny. Please give it a listen. Read the tags, understand that I have no idea about drugs, but I have plenty of knowledge of anxiety/ anxiety attacks (ha ha). 
> 
> Please comment if u can, it really makes my day, and don't forget to leave kudos!!
> 
> \- Anwen xx
> 
> [EDIT: I AM PLANNING A SECOND CHAPTER TO BE POSTED SOON, HANG ON FOLKS!! BOOKMARK THIS, SHIT IS GONNA GO DOWN]

Harry stumbled over the curb, nearly falling face-forward into the empty road. His hands were shaking, his head woozy. What had been in that brownie? Behind him, the party-goers screamed and laughed hysterically. Somewhere in there was his girlfriend, Samantha. Sam had promised not to leave his side. She knew how anxious he could get. So anxious, in fact, that he had been put on medication only two months ago. Not that it helped. 

By this point Harry was hyperventilating in the hazy glow of the street-light, hands on his wobbly knees. “I am safe,” He heaved, “Nobody is going to hurt me.”

“You alright, bud?”

He straightened up with a yelp, his heart thundering in the soles of his feet. There was a boy standing on the lawn opposite. The door of the house was open, milky white light spilling across the grass. He was small – petite, if you will, with a soft-looking brown fringe and glasses. And Harry had no idea who he was.

“Stay away!” Harry wheezed, realising he couldn't draw in a breath. Tears pricked at the back of his eyes. He was humiliated someone other than Sam had seen him in this state. Sam always knew what to do. 

The boy's eyes were wide as he cautiously edged towards him, hands out like Harry was a startled deer. Harry felt sick. “Jesus,” He dry-heaved, falling to his knees on the dirty pavement. The boy rushed over and grabbed Harry before he collapsed completely. “Have you taken anything?” He asked softly, shifting slightly to better carry Harry's weight. “B... Brownie,” He muttered, and started sobbing. His feet weren't on the ground any-more, he knew. His Chelsea boots sparkled like they had been drenched in glitter-paint. Something was wrong with his hands. He turned them palms-up and stared so hard his head started to ache. They were runny, like egg-yolks, like wet paint, dripping onto the pavement and down his jeans. The boy was saying things that he didn't understand. “... I need to... Ambulance...” He heard, and ripped himself out of the boy's grip, wailing as he landed on the floor. “No!” He cried, “Nobody can know... Please... Just... I need to...” 

 

Louis was confused. A second ago the curly-haired boy had been writhing in his grip, yelling something about wet jeans, and now he was asleep at his socked feet. He couldn't carry him, and even if he could, where would he take him? The party was still booming inside the house. Maybe someone inside knew who the sleeping boy was. “What the fuck was in that brownie?” He hissed, wedging his hands under the boy's clammy armpits and dragging him – with some difficulty – to the nearest lawn. A dark haired girl ran out of the door and puked down the stairs. “Hey!” He called, waving an arm. “Hey! Do you know this guy?” He brushed the curls out of the boy's face and pointed at him. 

Before the girl could reply, someone was at the door. “Bethany?” She wailed, clutching a bottle of something alcoholic to her chest. “Beth, seriously? Mac is gonna kill you! I ain't clearing that up, babe. Get a fucking – “ She paused, eyes drifting towards Louis' situation. “Harry?” She all but screamed, dropping the bottle. She stumbled past the vomit and fell onto the grass next to the boy – Harry – lying asleep on the grass. “Is he okay? What the fuck did you do?” She makes a grab for Louis and he jumps back, hands up. “Wow! Wow! I didn't do anything, yeah? He was gonna pass out in the road so I dragged him here. He... just fell asleep. Said something about brownies?” Louis said.

All of a sudden she was beaming, “He tried a brownie?” She giggled and Louis felt sick, “Aww, my brave baby,” She petted Harry's hair and kissed him on the mouth. “Uh...” Louis began, “Aren't you worried that he... He was shaking and crying – shouldn't we take him to the hospital?” A thought hit him, “What if he's overdosed? We don't know how ma –“ The girl shushed him loudly. 

“Hey, dude, buddy. He's my boyfriend, not yours. He isn't a fag like you, yeah? So can you back off a bit? He doesn't even know you. I'll take care of him. He'll be fine, I know my baby better than you.”

Louis' jaw worked, his hands forming into fists. “You really think calling somebody a fag is okay?” He asked, every word hard as steel. She stared at him, unimpressed. “Jeez, don't get angry. It's just a word. And, for the record, I saw him eat one brownie. He'll be fine. I just need to...” She searched her pockets, “... find my phone...” She stood up and walked back to the house, turning back to shriek at Louis, “You touch him and I'll get my bitch on you.”

“Oh no!” Louis laughed, “Your bitch!” And then she was gone. “Looks like it's just you and me, Harry,” He sighed, kneeling on the grass. Harry grumbled something under his breath and rolled onto his side, hands searching for a blanket. They found Louis' knee, gripping it tightly. Louis chuckled and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and a tiny sharpened-to-death pencil. 

He wrote his name and phone number, tucking it into the pocket of Harry's soft hoodie. 

He stood and brushed the dirt from his trousers.

By the time Sam had found her phone and made her way back to Harry's sleeping form, the boy was gone.


End file.
